


Because of us

by SomedayTheSky



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Female Characters, Friendship, Gen, Light-Hearted, Marriage Proposal, One Shot, Robbery, Unrequited Love, Éponine is chaotic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 03:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18460130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomedayTheSky/pseuds/SomedayTheSky
Summary: Eponine leaned her head on her hand, smiling. “Angelica Schuyler Church,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a civil conversation with someone this rich. Especially after I stole their car.”





	Because of us

The bright red Cadillac’s alarm was so loud and shrill that for a second Eponine was worried the diamond wedding ring in her pocket might shatter—but it was a passive, casual worry; she’d stolen the ring from Cosette, along with a bracelet and three different strings of pearls, one of which may or may not have been a Fauchelevent family heirloom. Eponine didn’t much care what became of any of it.

She yanked off a stiletto and used it to punch the rest of the way through the window, ignoring the shards of glass that buried in her hands as she opened the door from the inside and hastily dusted off the driver’s seat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Grantaire—who she had been talking to just moments before, calm as ever—gesturing wildly at her from the restaurant's balcony. This was bad news, because he was sure to tell Enjolras, who—unfortunately—would rather die than be complicit in any wrongdoing, had never understood Eponine’s many charms, and felt no personal obligation to keep her from getting arrested.

That was fine. She was already done here.

It was a nice car—still smelled new and everything—and it was with a smug satisfaction that she pressed the on button and felt the engine growl to life. There was no good reason that the button should have fired up the car without the keys in range, but if the powers that may be were intent on her not having to waste time hot-wiring, she wasn’t about to question it. Eponine floored the pedal and veered sharply out of the parking lot, slammed back into her seat from the force.

Eponine would _do_ things—great things, terrible things. That was the difference between her and Cosette. Flat-ironed hair and pretty restraint. Eponine gripped the wheel so tight it could have snapped in half, pulling abruptly over into a patch of grass on the side of the road.

No. Marius wanted the kind of girl that didn’t steal engagement rings and heirlooms and cars. That was what he wanted.

If she didn’t pull this kind of shit—

If she wasn’t so—

Then maybe one day—

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to punch out the rest of the windows or punch Marius or curl up with a pint—any variety of pint—and watch _Dirty Dancing_ . She’d never seen _Dirty Dancing_ , but she knew this was what girls were supposed to do when they were having emotional issues.

Eponine slumped against the wheel and cried for a cathartic three seconds before realizing that someone had just cleared their throat. She whirled around to find a very unfazed woman in the backseat staring Eponine down with hands on her hips. “Anything to say for yourself?”

She bit back an instinctive apology—it felt like disappointing a favorite teacher by forgetting to print an essay before class. “I’ve been in love with this stupid fucking _shithead_ boy for fucking _years_ , and he just proposed to some _bitch_ , and I just—” she let herself sob once, pitifully. “I just had to _go_ somewhere.”

“It had to be _this_ car? On the side of a freeway? Couldn’t you at least have waited for me to get out first?” The woman pinched the bridge of her nose like this was a mild inconvenience compared to whatever else she had going on. “Sis. You’re not the only one having a tough night here—that doesn’t mean you can take it out on innocent bystanders.”

Eponine knew she should plead for forgiveness, but she was pissed and sexually frustrated and didn’t much care at this point if she went back to jail for a year or two. Who was there to disappoint? “Some rich lady has a few too many and suddenly thinks she’s an expert on unrequited love.”

She set her hands in her lap gently. “You know Hamilton?”

Eponine had heard of a guy from the Carribean working his way through the Manhattan scene impossibly fast, half through writing skill and half through sheer swagger and force of will. He’d corresponded with the amis a couple of times, to very mixed reception—Enjolras might have been a little jealous of the shameless way Hamilton flirted with… Enj had claimed it was a distraction.

“What about Hamilton?” Eponine asked, leaning slightly towards the woman now. She told herself she wasn’t _interested_ ; it could just be useful information at a latter date.

“Well, I was the one who introduced him to his… his wife.”

Eponine leaned her head on her hand, smiling. “Angelica Schuyler Church,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a civil conversation with someone this rich. Especially after I stole their car.”

“Yeah, about that…” Angelica pulled some keys out of her designer handbag—no wonder the on button had worked—and shook them. “I asked to hang out in Lafayette’s car for a bit until he was ready to go. Couldn’t take all the toasts to the sister of the bride-to-be.”

“Oh, oof, sorry...” Eponine subtly felt around for the door handle while trying not to break eye contact.

“Hey.” Angelica snapped her fingers once, and Eponine’s hand flew back to her side like a child caught stealing candy. How could this woman manage such an effortless _teacher you want to impress but can’t_ vibe? “Drive me back to the restaurant and apologize to the shithead boy and the bitch for making a scene during one of the happiest nights of their lives, and I’ll tell Laf this was all a big accident, and everybody wins—”

“But me,” Eponine complained, dismal. She imagined walking through the door, smiling at the hostess like nothing ever happened, finding all the people she’d ever cared about sitting at one long table, worried for her, ashamed of her. Montparnasse giving her that _what were you thinking_ glare. Grantaire drunk out of his mind, finding some way to blame himself. Cosette’s gentle face — she’d probably be crying. And Marius. Marius in that too-stiff suit she’d helped him rent.

Eponine slammed her head back against the steering wheel. The horn honked. She groaned and slumped forward onto her lap.

“Why do you love him when he hurts you like this?”

“Why do you care?”

Angelica tapped her fingers along the leather seat. If there was one thing she knew, it was patience.

Eponine blew a strand of hair away from her face. She could’ve been here for weeks, just listing reasons. His smile. His voice. His laugh. “I love him because he’s good. Deep down, he is completely good. And he needs me. And if someone like him can need me, I must be a little good, too. But I guess I’m mostly just an idiot.”

“Well, I don't know, maybe you're right,” Angelica said, low and gentle, “and he _was_ perfect for you—the you that needed to be needed by someone good. And maybe knowing him has changed you, and now, you… you need different things than before. And... that’s okay.”

Eponine closed her eyes tight. She thought about all the people she’d ever cared about sitting at one long table. Just talking. Just being there in the first place. She thought she might have owed them. “I hate this.”

“I think he’s going to be happy until he dies because of you.”

Eponine nodded slowly, let out a breath, and set her hands on the wheel. “Angelica?”

“Yes?”

“I think Hamilton will be happy until he dies because of you.”

She nodded twice, blinking quickly before turning her face aside. “Thank you.”

 


End file.
